


Shatter the Darkness

by lostsoul512



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, an appropriate amount of death knight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 00:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostsoul512/pseuds/lostsoul512
Summary: Because even when it was his blade through his chest instead of his body pressing close Thassarian had been claiming him from the moment they met.





	Shatter the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the weekly prompt light (which naturally brought death knights to mind).

Thassarian has never really cared about the Light but he can't help thinking that the sunlight gleaming off Koltira’s hair is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

He can see it now, pale gold reflecting off pale white, too bright in comparison to the grey that clings to everything else in Acherus. Koltira is standing on the balcony, with his hands on the railing and his eyes transfixed on some point in the distance that’s probably more in his head than anything real and visible. His back is turned towards Thassarian, but he doesn't mind, because the sunlight is gleaming off his hair and he is here, he’s here, and nothing else really matters except that. 

The human has just started to wonder if maybe Koltira doesn't realize he’s not alone when he turns, slowly, like the careful immersion from a dream he wasn't quite ready to leave, and offers a smile that’s not quite sweet but certainly not malicious, and says, “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all day?” 

Thassarian’s reply is an instant, insistent, “yes”, and he can see the edges of Koltira’s smile soften, and he thinks if his heart still possessed a beat it might have skipped at the sight of it- Koltira’s smile is the second most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“I missed you,” he says, even though they both know this and it doesn't really need to be said. It doesn't feel like enough, anyway- missing isn't nearly enough to describe the full sensation of having Koltira ripped away from him so suddenly and quite literally. Missing isn't nearly enough to explain the months and months and months of bitterness and agony and loneliness and longing and- 

“I missed you too,” Koltira replies. His voice is a low reverberation, a murmur, and even though death knights don't feel cold, not really, Thassarian thinks he can feel the faint traces of a shiver dancing along his spine and for once it’s got nothing to do with the general chill of dread and eternal damnation that lingers in the air around them all the time. 

There’s a moment of silence that passes between them, a pause, and Thassarian uses it to take a few steps forward, closer- he’s here, he’s here, and nothing else matters, and even though it’s been a few days now he can't help but want to be next to him all the time. A few days isn't long enough for the paranoia to wear off, and he can't help thinking that at any given second he’ll turn around and Koltira will be gone again, and maybe he’s already dead or at least something close to it but he’s confident that if he ever loses Koltira again he really will die. 

Koltira doesn't want to talk about what happened. He’s said so multiple times- practically uses it as a form of greeting now- and if there’s anyone that understands not wanting to talk about things it's death knights so no one dares press him about what happened while the Banshee Queen had him held captive. 

Koltira doesn't want to talk about what happened, but it doesn't take any words at all to collapse forward against the human. Thassarian just barely has enough time to hold his ground and wrap his arms around him, and even though death knights don't really feel and there are two layers of saronite between them he can feel him and he’s got no intention of letting him go again. 

He starts to tell him so, but the elf is quick to silence him with a kiss, and Thassarian thinks that maybe that doesn't take any words either- maybe he knows already, maybe he’s always known because even when it was his blade through his chest instead of his body pressing close Thassarian had been claiming him from the moment they met. 

“People are staring,” Thassarian says then, pulling back just enough to meet Koltira’s gaze- it’s as far as he can pull back with the way the elf has his hands tangled into his hair. 

“Let them stare,” Koltira replies with a shrug and a sneer directed past the human at the entirety of Acherus. “Everyone already knows anyway.” 

He’s right, of course, and Thassarian is having a hard time caring about anything except for Koltira, because he has spent months and months and months thinking that he’d never see him again, and now he’s here, so he supposes that people can stare if they want but none of them matter because nothing else matters. 

There’s a moment of silence that passes between them, a pause, and Thassarian uses it to admire the way that the brilliant golden rays of the sun dances along the tresses of Koltira’s hair. He’s never cared about the Light, not in the way that some people do, but sometimes it's hard not to think of Koltira as a light that shines just for him, something to shatter the darkness that has existed in his head from the moment he’d been killed and dragged back to life, and he can't help thinking that whoever said death knights don't feel, not really, must have been terribly mistaken because he feels this, he’s always felt this, and nothing else really matters. 

Koltira catches him off guard with a genuine smile, leaning in to steal a final kiss before sauntering past him into the depths of Acherus, and Thassarian thinks that maybe he’s been terribly mistaken too. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with the sun in his hair or the gleam in his eyes when he’s thinking something particularly degrading or the way that his hands sometimes trace the scar along his chest like if he touches it enough he can make it go away. Maybe it’s impossible to pick out a single thing to love the most; maybe it’s more like a culmination of everything- but maybe it doesn't matter anyway, not really, because whether he understands or not isn't going to change how he feels or the fact that he can feel, and maybe for him that’s always been enough.


End file.
